Sabine and Morgan made the most of Sabine's last week in the ISB. They went to a taco truck on their lunch break and brought back chips for Agent Divo. They snuck into a dance parlor and danced until their feet went numb. They watched the security footage of Swain shoving Governor Pryce into an interrogation chair on a loop.
Meanwhile, Sabine stalked Uddra's every move. She'd gotten the date of Koracik and Rath Velus' "Uddra is out of town" drinking binge, but she wanted to see the woman leave for herself. She watched Uddra board a shuttle, then followed the shuttle with her eyes until she couldn't see it anymore.
"The bitch has flown the coop," Morgan whispered from behind her, and Sabine almost had a heart attack.
"Morgan, you scared me to death."
"Sorry." She didn't sound sorry. "But, she's gone and all her little minions are celebrating their temporary freedom. Are you going to make your move?"
"Not right now."
"Boo." Morgan pouted. "In the meantime, want to get kabobs? Or we can leak the Pryce holo to a T-shirt site."
Now that was tempting, and Sabine figured she could eke out one more prank before she left. "Tell me more."
…
Across the galaxy, Governor Pryce was in the middle of a very unpleasant debriefing. Grand Admiral Thrawn had not been amused that the defectors escaped, nor that the Skystrike staff had found Pryce strapped to an interrogation table courtesy of Hannah Swain. He didn't need to know the extent of her failure.
"Of course I won the brawl," she lied. "She pulled a stun blaster from beneath her tunic and shot me in the back. Typical rebel scum."
"Interesting." Thrawn's face gave nothing away. "Governor, I took the liberty of checking for any relevant HoloNet activity before our meeting today, and found some most interesting art."
That couldn't be good. "Art?"
Thrawn turned his datapad screen. On the display was a listing from a clothing holosite, with security footage screenshots from Pryce and Swain's brawl proudly displayed on a T-shirt. Whoever submitted it had cropped Swain's face out of the picture, but they hadn't done the same for Pryce.
The first picture was Swain punching her in the face.
Then her body slamming Pryce into the interrogation table.
And finally, a close up of Pryce's face as she hit the electric interrogation prod while Swain shouted "My dad taught me better!"
"Governor, this looks like you losing a fistfight to former Officer Swain."
Pryce growled. Whoever leaked those holos was getting executed. Slowly.
…
"The sales are through the roof. I think the whole ISB has ordered one at this point," Sabine stared at the T-shirt's sales metrics.
"No shock there. Agent Gudry's old training officer probably bought one in every color." Morgan replied and popped a stick of gum into her mouth. "Did you hear Yularen telling her to stuff it? I almost died."
It was impossible to miss. Pryce sent a memo to the ISB demanding they take the shirt listing down and punish the person or persons responsible.
Yularen had replied immediately and publicly, saying that the ISB was comprised of professionals who would never dream of such juvenile stunts, and to imply otherwise was practically treason. As well he should, because then he turned around and bought a T-shirt.
The whole bureau was abuzz with gossip about who had leaked the holos, who ordered what color, and whether they could get away with wearing the shirts under their uniforms. It was the perfect distraction.
Originally Sabine had planned on absconding with the list and to hell with the ISB, but doing that would doom the family who had shown her nothing but kindness. So, while listening to Morgan snore in the middle of the night, she came up with a new plan. She would steal the list, stay at the ISB long enough not to be considered a suspect, and then find an excuse to leave. Divo and Morgan would have plenty of plausible deniability if Uddra came hunting.
With the plan solidified, she handed the datapad to Morgan. "Hold this for me? I need to use the refresher."
And then she walked down the hallway, right past the refresher, and to Uddra's office. Keeping her comlink inside her pocket, she activated the cloned signal from the cleaning droid to open the door and walked right in.
Minister Tua's list was in Uddra's cabinet, helpfully filed under "Lothal." Sabine grabbed it, stuck it in her boot, and walked right out.
Total elapsed time, 30 seconds.
That was anticlimactic, she thought. Good thing she hadn't sunk an entire year into this mission. With the list secured, she returned to Divo's office.
Divo was still on her caf break, which Sabine suspected was also partially a trainee break, and Morgan was taking full advantage of her absence to snoop through her desk.
"What are you looking for?" Sabine asked.
"Anything that will help convince Divo that Graf likes her." Morgan threw up her hands. "How can someone be a total pack rat and yet not keep anything useful?"
"Were you expecting her to keep the notes Graf stuck to the cookie plates?"
"A girl can hope, since she keeps literally everything else. I just found my term paper from last year!"
"Aww, it's sweet that she kept it."
"Sweet but useless." Morgan shut the drawer. "Ugh, maybe I should rent a billboard so Graf doesn't have to."
Sabine patted her on the back. "Start saving your credits."
Morgan groaned.
"Change of subject, but I'm really stressed about the comprehensive exam this week. Is it true that if I don't pass, I'll get kicked out of the Academy."
"Don't worry about it; Swain and I made flash cards before our test and studied together. I probably still have them…" she trailed off as the gears turned. "Holy crap, you're going to fail on purpose."
"Why would I bother studying if I was going to fail on purpose?"
"Come on Ria, that's so boring! If you're going to leave, at least make it exciting."
"I was trying not to draw attention to you, but if you insist…"
Morgan scoffed. "It doesn't have to be a choice between totally basic and just ghosting us; you have to find the fun middle ground. That's how you don't get caught."
And she would know something about not getting caught, this cheerleader who'd been committing treason for weeks inside the ISB with no one the wiser. "Do you have any suggestions?"
Morgan paused and considered.
"It's time to fake an injury."
That sounded ominous.
"Come on, let's check out the gym equipment."
…
ISB boasted a fully equipped gym for its employees. It had everything: weights that Jividen insisted made him buff, a track for those who preferred cardio, a dribble-ball court where Collerand and the Raiders' tight end were shooting baskets, every type of punching bag you could imagine, and the gymnastics equipment Morgan loved. She trained every moment she could, and Sabine's arrival hadn't changed that.
They were roughly the same height and weight, so they made good spotting partners, and they taught one another some of their favorite tricks. Morgan was getting pretty good at Sabine's signature rooftop jumps, and Sabine had to admit that flying through the air was pretty cool.
In the context of faking an injury, however, the gym suddenly was terrifying.
"What's the plan here, girlfriend?" She whispered while they stretched on the tumbling mats.
"If you're injured, you can't take the physical fitness portion of your final exam," Morgan replied. "No exam means no training assignment, means you can leave without arousing suspicion and have some fun."
"But it's a fake injury, not a real injury, right?"
"Of course! Who do you take me for?"
Sabine just raised an eyebrow and Morgan laughed.
"You'll know it when you see it." She hopped up and extended her hand. "Ready to fly?"
"Hells yeah." Sabine accepted the lift.
They began their workout with some basic flexibility and strength training before moving on to lifts, which went surprisingly well. Morgan didn't drop her on her shebs or crash onto her head from above; they just went about their normal routine.
"Want to learn a full twisting layout?" Morgan suggested.
"Sounds good to me." How were they going to fake an injury at this point? 'You'll know it when you see it' didn't apply when Sabine didn't know how to throw the stunt safely, unless Morgan was planning to throw it for her.
"Cool. Just stand right here … little to the left… little more."
"Why does it matter where I stand?"
She saw Morgan's look of remorse a split second before Collerand's ball smacked into the back of her head and knocked her off her feet.
"Oh my God!" Morgan shrieked and dropped to her knees. "Ria, are you okay? Say something!"
Sabine slowly turned her head to stare at the crazy girl. "What. The. Kriff?"
Morgan winked. "You're doing great; just stay down."
"Woah!" Collerand raced over and knelt by Sabine. "Sorry kid, I didn't see you there. You okay?"
"Of course she's not okay, your ball clocked her right in the head! She probably has a concussion."
"I'm fine," Sabine said blearily, mostly to tick off Morgan.
"Okay, I don't think it's bad enough that you need to go to Medical. I'll just call your training officer to pick you up. Who is it?"
"Divo," Morgan said.
Collerand went white. "Kriff."
"I'm outta here." The other player scooped up the ball and ran.
"Traitor!" Collerand shouted after him and turned wild-eyed to Morgan. "But Divo's your training officer."
"For like another week, so she's pulling double duty. Ask her if you don't believe me."
"You know, maybe it's not so bad that we need to call Divo. Here, have some Rancorade." He shoved a bottle in Sabine's face.
Morgan didn't blink. "I'll call her if you don't."
"Man…" Collerand whimpered and lifted his comlink to his ear like it was going to explode. "Divo, before I say this, don't kill me."
The gym was a brisk five-minute walk from the offices. Two minutes later, Divo tore into the gym and made a beeline for them.
"What happened?" She demanded and bent to examine Sabine.
Collerand erupted with explanation. "It was a total accident! I didn't see her, I swear we were just shooting baskets and the ball went wild!"
"It came out of nowhere, Mom," Morgan said. "One second we were minding our own business and then boom, Ria's down!"
Divo tipped Sabine's head up. "Look at me, baby."
"Anyway, I don't think it's a concussion or anything. We can just, y'know, give her an ice pack and have her take it easy." Collerand wrung his hands.
Divo snapped. "This is my seventh kid, Collerand. I think I know what a concussion looks like by now."
He cringed.
"Ria, tell me what hurts."
"It's not so bad," Sabine said. "Just a headache. I don't feel sick or anything."
"That might happen later." Divo helped her to her feet. "You're going home for the day, and since Morgan isn't skipping work on my watch, you're coming home with me."
"I can —." Morgan's saw Divo's face and the protest died in her throat. "I mean, I can pick her up after work."
"Sounds like a plan." Divo took Sabine by the shoulders and gently escorted her out of the gym.
They reached the door a moment before Colonel Yularen barreled through it. "What's this about a head injury?"
"Thank you for your concern, sir," Divo adjusted her grip on Sabine. "I think we've handled it."
Yularen looked at her, then at Collerand and Morgan who looked like they'd swallowed a lemon, then muttered "not my circus, not my monkeys," as he walked away.
"It's my circus, my monkeys," Divo muttered under her breath. "Come on Ria, let's get you out of here."
And they walked out of the ISB with the list in Sabine's sneaker.
…
"You need to rest your head, so no reading and no holoscreen." Divo ordered while she situated Sabine on her couch. "Can I get you anything else?"
"No, I'm fine." Sabine pulled the fluffy blanket Divo had given her to her chin. "Thanks for bringing me here; you have a lovely home."
Divo's apartment wasn't big, but it was tastefully decorated and the walls were covered with family holos. Sabine even spotted one of Graf's notes stuck to the conservator.
"Thank you. It's not much, but I try to keep it up." Divo reached for a radio next to the couch. "I suppose it's not fair if I use screens while you can't. Do you have a favorite station?"
"Surprise me."
Divo turned on a talk station and soon enough they were engrossed in the host's topic of the day. A man had contacted the station saying that he'd found the woman of his dreams, but didn't think she was recognizing his attempts to ask her out. He was desperate for advice.
"Poor man," Divo said. "How could she not notice?"
Holy crap, this was next level cluelessness. Clearly drastic action was required. Sabine leaned back on the couch while she brainstormed a plan.
"Ria," Divo interrupted her brainstorming session. "I know your final exam is next week. But after this head injury, there's no way I can clear you to take the physical portion."
Sabine summoned some tears. "I know."
Divo hugged her. "If there was any way around it, I would take you on in an instant. Next term, I'll have to beat the other training officers away from you with a stick."
Sabine just melted into her. Divo's hug felt like Hera's and Ursa's and a million cups of cocoa, and after this mission she needed a freaking hug.
"We'll make all your travel arrangements to go home. Don't worry about a thing."
Hallelujah, praise the force. She was getting out of here.
…
"We're going to miss you so much! Come back next term, okay?" Morgan gushed at the spaceport.
"For sure." Fat chance. If Sabine never saw this madhouse again, it would be too soon. "Good luck with your new stunts."
"Thanks! Oh, don't forget your stuff." She handed Sabine her backpack.
"You have your boarding pass? And your mom is picking you up at the spaceport?" Divo asked.
"Yep." She held up the boarding pass as proof. "Thank you for everything, Agent Divo. This has been more than I could have imagined."
In more ways than one.
"See you next term!" Morgan sent her off with a quick hug.
They waved until the shuttle was in the air.
Another mission, done and dusted. Sabine kicked back in her seat and opened her backpack to put away the boarding pass. Sitting atop the clothes and toiletries was a neatly folded piece of flimsi and a stack of credits.
Half expecting a bomb, she opened the flimsi.
Dear Sabine,
If you're wondering how I know your real name, I ran your fingerprints while you were sleeping the first night. Obviously I deleted the results as soon as I was done, but a girl needs to know who her roomie is and you didn't give me much to go on.
Anyway, here's your cut of the Pryce shirt sales. I used a little to help pay for the master plan, but I didn't think you'd mind.
Hanging with you was a blast and I hope you had a good time too. Add me on Words With Friends so we can keep in touch!
Toodles,
N.M.
P.S. If you run into any cute pilots, please let me know. I'm dying here.
She stifled a laugh. The mission wasn't over after all. Maybe she would even get a chance to pay Morgan back for that concussion.
…
"Happy birthday, Mama." Morgan cheerfully deposited a birthday card on Divo's desk.
"First a cupcake at lunch and now this? You're spoiling me." Divo accepted the card all the same.
"Don't forget that video of Gideon screaming at Uddra, but I guess that was a gift from the universe."
Divo just smiled. "Ah, yes."
Morgan glanced at the chronometer. 1359. "Did you get anything else?"
"Herman got me a restaurant gift card, Yang is taking me to a holo, Jividen and Reid went in on a spa day, and Koracik promised to clean my apartment top to bottom. It's wonderful!"She opened the card and read it. "Oh Morgan, I love you too. I know we're all missing Ria, but it's still going to be a good day."
"I'm sure of it." Morgan hugged her, and silence hung in the office just long enough for the chrono to tick 1400.
At that exact moment, a delivery droid swooped into the office holding a floral arrangement: two dozen long-stemmed red roses in a crystal vase.
"Delivery for Andressa Divo?" It chirped.
Divo's mouth fell open. "I'm Andressa Divo, but I didn't order these. Maybe they're from my father?"
"Is there a card?" Morgan asked.
"No card, ma'am," the droid replied.
"He would have sent a card," Divo mused. "Come to think of it, he wouldn't send flowers at all. Who would?"
There was a knock on the doorjamb and realization dawned on her face.
"Happy birthday!" Graf exclaimed, and stopped short when he saw the scene before him.
"Graf?" Divo whispered, "Are these from you? I…" She blinked away nascent tears. "Nobody's ever bought me flowers before."
"Uh…" Graf looked from Divo, to the flowers, to Morgan who was nodding furiously, and tossed the carnations he was holding behind his back. "...Yes. Yes, I did."
"Thank you!" Divo gushed. "They're beautiful, and I … I…" She composed herself and looked away from the roses to the man in the doorway. "Graf, would you like to have dinner with me tonight? Just the two of us?"
From the way Graf's face lit up, you would have thought it was his birthday. "I'd like that very much."
Divo blushed and Morgan smiled at the two adults. Then, concealing her comlink under her desk, she opened the Words With Friends chat.
GoFightWin: It worked! They're going out tonight.
LookAtTheColor: It should have worked, with what we paid for priority delivery. It cost almost as much as the flowers themselves. Where are they going?
GoFightWin: Graf suggested hibachi at Mom's favorite place.
RedHairDontCare: Oooh hibachi
GoFightWin: You let Swain in the chat? I thought we agreed it was family only.
RedHairDontCare: I'm the reason any of this happened and if Divo's finally going out with Uncle Graf, we're going to be cousins before you know it.
LookAtTheColor: Speaking of romance, there's a new defector on base.
LookAtTheColor: He's a pilot.
LookAtTheColor: With dark hair and 6-pack abs.
GoFightWin: You know what I said about this chat only being for family?
GoFightWin: Scratch it. Add him.
RedHairDontCare: He doesn't play this game. When he's not training he's working on his fighter.
LookAtTheColor: With no shirt on
GoFightWin: When did he defect?
RedHairDontCare: Last week. He was one of the pilots I rescued.
GoFightWin: My dream man was at Skystrike?!
GoFightWin: OMG, tell me his name so I can stalk him on Spacebook.
LookAtTheColor: I don't think he's into Imperials.
GoFightWin: PLEASE
LookAtTheColor: Sorry, you'll have to join the rebellion if you want to see him
GoFightWin: You're killing me.
GoFightWin: Something tells me this is revenge
LookAtTheColor: …
LookAtTheColor: Shouldn't have given me a concussion, sister.